


I'm sorry, but I fell head over heels for your story

by sweetbun_trio



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ace Spec Bernadetta, F/M, FE3H Wank Week, Fantasizing, Guilt, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25678294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbun_trio/pseuds/sweetbun_trio
Summary: Still, a little harmless fantasizing about something that would never ever happen couldn’t hurt anyone. She leaned back in her chair and imagined what it would feel like to be held in Sylvain’s arms, what it would be like when he kissed her, when he ran his hands over her skin, down lower— No, she wanted to get this writing done.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	I'm sorry, but I fell head over heels for your story

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a little drabble for FE3H Wank Week, and this ended up touching on themes for three days - fantasizing, guilt, and pining.

Sometimes, leaving the safety of her room did have benefits, Bernadetta thought as she bent over the romance novel Yuri had helped her get from the Abyss library, and the stack of papers she had spread across her desk. The rest of her manuscript — all of her prized work from the five years between leaving school and returning to the monastery — lay tucked under more books and a sewing project, where she had stowed it after finally getting it back from Sylvain.

Sylvain.

He just had to go and… and...be nice to her! Why? Everyone knew he was bad news. But now she couldn’t get him out of her head!

“Focus, Bernie,” she told herself. She had been making good progress on finishing her first draft before remembering the way he had complimented her writing, and even asked her (her!) out for tea. He was only playing with her though, she couldn’t really entertain the idea.

Still, a little harmless fantasizing about something that would never ever happen couldn’t hurt anyone. She leaned back in her chair and imagined what it would feel like to be held in Sylvain’s arms, what it would be like when he kissed her, when he ran his hands over her skin, down lower— No, she wanted to get this writing done.

Bernadetta turned back to her work, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to assuage the ache between her legs. She paged through the book to find more sex scenes to study.

_His manhood entered her and they began to move together._

His manhood? Bernadetta was familiar with the mechanics of sex, but that was a really odd word to use. She scanned further, seeing more words like _appendage_ and _member._ She sighed. 

Reading on, things didn’t get much better.

_With one final thrust they came as one, falling like shooting stars through the night, descending from on high._

Did it really happen like that? Bernadetta thought about the times she had touched herself. It didn’t seem like just penetration would get her there, but maybe it was different when you were with a man. 

She reviewed her own writing. The hero had just confessed his feelings, finally, to the heroine and they had kissed. And she didn’t know where to go from there. The writing she had hoped to use as a reference didn’t ring true. She had been puzzling over this for about an hour now. She deserved a break. 

Shutting the book, tidying up her papers and quills, and blowing out her candle, Bernadetta set aside her project and hopes of hitting her page count goal for the evening. She changed into her nightclothes and got in bed. And allowed her imagination to wander.

Bernie’s imagination sprinted right back to her earlier thoughts of Sylvain. 

She slipped her fingers between her folds and felt how wet she was already. Sighing, she inserted her first and second fingers into herself, pumping a couple times and spreading her slick up to her clit. 

If she were with him, for her first time, she would like to think he would take care of her. He surely had experience and would know what to do. In her mind, Sylvain held her in his arms, so much bigger and stronger. Providing the safety she craved, his body enveloped hers, surrounding her in warmth. 

With her other hand, Bernadetta trailed her fingers over the peak of one breast. A shiver ran down her spine to her core, bringing her closer. 

What would it be like? How would it feel to have him above her, his weight pressing her down, for him to be inside her?

Whether or not it would help her get there, even though she didn’t know what it would feel like, the thought of being filled by him pulled a moan from her lips. Her hips rocked against the mattress in time with her fingers as she stroked herself. 

Bernadetta conjured Sylvain’s voice in her head, from the day he returned her manuscript. “I’m sorry, but I fell head over heels for—.” She substituted “you” for “your story” and tipped over the edge, coming with a whimper. 

The room was as silent and still as ever as she lay, breathing hard. She pulled the blankets up around herself as the light sheen of sweat cooled across her face and chest. And then the fantasy her mind had produced fully registered and she groaned. Embarrassment and guilt flooded her senses and she rolled onto her side, facing the wall. 

Stupid! she thought. He would never see her in that way. He just enjoyed her story. That was it.

Still, she had saved his letter, if only to provide herself with encouragement when she was stumped while writing. Flipping the covers off again, she dragged herself back out of bed and sat at the desk again. She relit her candle and carefully unfolded the letter, reading each word again. 

She paused at the best parts to savor the fact that, even if unintentionally and to her utter mortification, someone had read her work and liked it.

_I laughed and cried as the heroine overcame her many obstacles, growing stronger with each step._

Maybe she was growing stronger with each step, but she could only hope she would be strong enough to overcome the obstacles that were surely mounting against her, and all of them. The end of this war and chance at a life afterward did not seem within her grasp most nights as she struggled to find sleep.

_Since authors are told to write what they know...I believe your tale would not have been so convincing were it not for your own experiences._

Bernadetta had so many bad life experiences she had drawn from to write her story. When would she be able to count some good experiences among them? How was she supposed to write the happy ending she intended without such an experience? 

_I do hope my letter inspires you to keep writing. Looking forward to the next chapter._

She would keep writing, and maybe she could work up the courage to show Sylvain the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetbun_trio).


End file.
